Long Days
by Peregrination
Summary: Angel overhears Parker in a bar in L.A., and, well, takes action. Set BtVS Season 4
1. chapter I

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. It's very sad. All credit for the characters goes to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. Not me. Damn.  
  
Distribution: Are you kidding? I'd go insane with joy. Just tell me where, so I can watch and gloat.   
  
Author's Notes: Angel hears Parker in a bar. Not exactly a complicated plot, but I really just wanted to explore what's going through Angel's head. Send feedback with love, and cherries on top!  
  
Angel sat at the bar, waiting, face shadowed and unreadable. By the three empty glasses sitting in front of him though, one might assume something was wrong, that if that face came out of the darkness that caressed it, sadness or even anger would linger in his eyes, behind the alcohol haze and cigarette smog that hovered over the dark wooden bar. It had been a long day and there would be one just as long tomorrow, and the day after that. These days were always long, and they always  
  
"A girl?"  
  
His head jerked up, reflexes too fast to be human. As his face emerged from the shadows that had cradled it, the bartender repeated,   
  
"A girl? It's always a girl."  
  
A deep voice rumbled from the man, "I though it was a myth. That bartenders do the sympathy, wise mentor act."  
  
"Nope, not this one."  
  
They lapsed into silence, one man waiting for the other to break and tell his pain, use the alcohol and the company to ease the burning ache that told him to run back to the woman with the silky, blonde hair and vanilla scent that had enchanted him. Angel opened his mouth and then heard  
  
A voice. A word. A name. His vampire senses zoomed in, forgetting, ignoring the clatter of voices  
  
(the name)  
  
a laugh. There was silence in Angel's head, and he heard  
  
(her name)  
  
the voice- a man's voice? please, no, please, no, please  
  
"She was good- great even, I mean, talk about stamina..."  
  
no, please, no, it's someone else he's talking about so roughly, no, no,   
  
a new voice, "Dude, that's awesome. Think I could be her shoulder to cry on, now that you've moved here? SunnyD's not too far away, and she sounds easy, if she'd fall for your act..."  
  
No! no, no, no mine, mine, no, not mine anymore, you stupid fuck, you left her and he's touched her,  
  
(mine)  
  
with those big ugly hands and she was Mine, she was mine, and she will never forgive me  
  
(heaven hath no rage like a love to hate turned; nor hell no fury like a woman scorned)  
  
and I could be touching her but I can't, she's moved on  
  
"So any ways, it was fun, and I'd have loved to go again, but she was already thinking that there was some kind of commitment, so I had to get out quick. I mean..."  
  
here a chuckle  
  
"could you really see me in a relationship?" 


	2. chapter II

Angel had heard enough. The bartender, who had watched, fascinated, as the man closed his eyes and clenched his fists until his nails scratched his skin and his palms ran with blood (his blood? maybe hers. sometimes he wondered if her blood still ran through his veins, and he meditated and tried to find it, tried to find where she was in him that he could never let go, that his heart broke every day when he woke up from his dreams. he could always taste her copper-tangy blood in his mouth)  
  
and he rose, he had to rise, he had to go to her, she was his and he belonged to her, would always belong to her, and no cruel ex-boyfriend or angry ex-Watcher with words like torches would set fire to his dreams,   
  
"She's moved on, Angel, she's happy and normal and doing what you left her to do."  
  
would stop him from talking what was his and what he loved.  
  
Angel was walking then, and then he was jogging and then he sprinted out of the dark bar and into the night with the stars winking at him and he was at his car and jumping over the side and Angel fumbled with the key and dropped them to the soft carpet of his car, only it wasn't soft anymore, not soft like her vanilla skin- Buffy's vanilla skin- he allowed himself to think her name and then it wasn't enough to think it, he had to say it, had to feel it on his lips until he could taste the salt on her skin.  
  
And then he drove in a delirious frenzy, because he was doing the bad thing, he was giving in to the temptation, and this huge weight slid from his chest, he was euphoric, he was drunk, he was smiling so huge and so hard that he didn't think anyone would recognize his normally austere face. 


	3. chapter III

He found the key and slid it into place and the black car rumbled under the tall black buildings and the big black sky with sparkly dots like the ones that hid in her eyes when she was laughing hard or smiling wide or crying like her lungs were being ripped out through her throat.  
  
But then he stopped before her dorm and the giddiness faded into fear, and his alcohol- induced optimism turned to ice in his belly, and he was a coward and turned to his black, shiny, sparkle-reflecting car with it's seats and carpet so harsh on his hands when he thought of her softness. How could he tell her anything, tell her what the gypsy witch had said when he had saved her and she had bound his soul almost a month ago? There were no words. He lost his words when she came near him, when she was hurting his eloquence failed and   
  
(freak-show)  
  
but it was nothing in his mind when he heard a voice through the window, and it wasn't the right voice but it was close,   
  
"I'll be back soon, Buffy, just going to the library."  
  
And then he had to strain, had to almost meditate to hear the reply and he almost sobbed when all that came was a quiet mumble, but he could almost feel the intonations and rhythm of her speech. It struck him then, that it seemed he was doing a lot of eavesdropping these days, and then he laughed, a choked laugh, cause he had always lurked, always eavesdropped for news, and if he hadn't for a while then that while was over now because he was standing outside her window, listening in.  
  
"Yep, got my stake, 'n my holy water, 'n my cross, and a whole bunch of well-thought out witty quips. Kay, so, see you soon, not too much moping! Sure you don't wanna come? All right, but you know where me and Oz are gonna be- oops- well, what can you expect, I'm college girl now! All free and loose and yeah, stuff like that. So, uh, bye!" The last word was a squeak, and Angel almost smiled but then remembered her audience and his heart ripped too much for him to laugh. 


	4. chapter IV

And then he remembered that the redhead would be coming down the stairs soon, and he knew he had to flee while he could, but he was frozen and he realized it was already too late, he could move in only one direction, up the stairs and to his love, but though it was inevitable, all of us are fragile and fickle, humans and vampires, and he could not force his feet closer without time or prodding. It had been so long- Willow. He had missed her, even as his heart broke for Buffy. The redhead had always been kind, accepting, and forgiving. Angelus had killed her fish. He remembered catching them out of the water. He was sorry. Angel was always sorry.   
  
But thoughts were driven out of his head as he heard her footsteps walking, as the red doors swung open and there she was, eyes down as she searched through her yellow bag. Her head tilted back up and he cringed at the surprise in her eyes, the shock in her green stare.   
  
"Angel....what are you doing here?"  
  
He lowered his eyes, lost his voice when he tried to say something, anything, "uh.... I came to see Buffy. I need to talk with her." His throat was full of pauses, of negative space. Angel stared at her bewildered face, and turned to his shiny black car that blended in with the night, muttering, "I can't do this."  
  
"Angel!" He heard her cry, and paused, then pivoted on her heel to face her, "Angel, you can't do this to her again!"  
  
"Do what?" He cried out, sorrow spreading through his body like what he vaguely remembered cold felt like, "She's moved on. She..." His voice dropped and he had to clear his throat and blink once or twice before he could continue, "she slept with someone. She must have started dating again almost right after I left."  
  
"Dating?" She isn't dating. She hasn't done anything but mope over you, you big, stupid, man! I mean, men! First her father and then you and now Parker the Poophead...oh...you heard about Parker?"  
  
"I heard... Parker... in a bar in L.A. I couldn't.... I couldn't stay away from her... I'm weak," he laughed bitterly, "You know that."  
  
"You're not weak," Willow's voice was compassionate, "You're strong. Super strong, to stay away from her all this time when she's been sobbing in her sleep every night- okay, maybe not so much strong as completely heartless, and I probably shouldn't have told you about the weepyness, so just...umm...ignore me?"  
  
"Sobbing? But she has... Parker."  
  
"She doesn't have Parker! He used her, Angel! And we refer to him as Poophead, please!"  
  
"Used her..." Angel gaped. Something wasn't sinking in. Why would.... how could.... Buffy! What kind of a person could taste Buffy and then let her go?  
  
Willow, misunderstanding his confusion, continued, "You know, usual deal, boy meets girl, boy seduces girl, boy doesn't call ever again? He slept with her... And then he said it was... Fun. God, men!"  
  
Angel couldn't seem to hear her ranting.   
  
(I'll kill him. I'll kill him slowly. I'll tear off his fingernails and use them to decorate my desk.)  
  
Apparently he had been saying this aloud, because suddenly she was about to start for him, preparing to hold him back, when they both froze  
  
(her voice)  
  
"Willow! I thought you would have left by now! I was just going to catch up with you. You were right, I can't just mope in my room forever. I love him, and I'll always love him, but he left me and I have to go out and live my life and just, you know, be completely celibate. Forever. And not date, just... dance. Maybe I'll become a lesbian. It's a valid lifestyle choice. I mean, I could try, right?" Buffy looked at her friend, who stood stiffly, eyes flickering from her to a spot to their right, "Willow? Isn't this time for the supporting best friend hug? Willow? Will, what's wrong?" Angel watched as she crossed the soft grass in front of their dorm to grip her friend's upper arms.   
  
"Buffy!" Willow squeaked, 'Buffy, er... there's..."  
  
"Will, you're scaring me. What's going on?"Angel couldn't hide any longer.  
  
"Buffy." 


	5. chapter V

Author's Notes: I'd just like to thank all those who left reviews for this story so far. It's been wonderful to hear from you. Now, I'm going to take a moment to explain my grammar and punctuation (or lack of it). In this fic, and most of my work, I write character introspection: basically, what's going through their minds. And I don't know about you, but I've never met anyone who thinks in complete sentences with punctuation. In interests of keeping the story's tone as close to actual thought as possible, I've sometimes discarded grammar and punctuation in favor of simple words. Thanks again for your comments, and please, continue to send feedback with love.   
  
"Angel?" She spun around to face him, dropping Willow and letting her arms fall to her side, "Angel?" And then he was gripped around the waist and he could smell the gathering of salt in her eyes, under her vanilla scent, "Angel, I was so scared! You're okay? I was so worried that you were dust or being tortured or...something really really bad!" She gave him one last squeeze and then released him and stepped back. 'Okay, back into scorned woman and Slayer mode- what happened, what are you doing here? Where you been for the past few months?" Here her voice slowed and her hazel eyes turned toward the asphalt now underneath, "I was so scared."  
  
His voice left again, traitorous thing, and he stumbled over the rough words as he croaked, "I'm sorry... that you were worried. I didn't know... if you wanted me to stay in touch."  
  
"It's okay... do you want to come in? We can talk, and you can tell what you've done, who you've fought, who you've... been with this whole time. Compare new battle scars. Stuff."  
  
Buffy turned and left, walking purposely towards her dorm, while Angel followed like the lovesick puppy he was. His eyes skimmed over her back, taking in her red jacket, the black leather pants- she dressed harsh. No matter her words, her clothes showed her anger, her shield against the world. Like Faith, he thought, and then banished the thought. He was back now, and he would stay. Even if... if she wanted him to go. He could lurk. Angel was a good lurker.   
  
(no one should see her dressed like that. mine, mine, other men looking at her tight clothes, eyes all over his Buffy, maybe even hands, Parker, Parker, the name of the boy who touched my Buffy, mine!)  
  
(MINE- the demon roared. Mine to watch, mine to stalk, mine to take and kill and turn and live near for eternity!) Angel stifled the thoughts of his demon, as he always did, even when they mimicked his own so closely.  
  
Buffy opened a door, lifted her eyes to meet his and said, "Come in, Angel." He managed a weak smile and entered.   
  
"So, where've you been? Whatcha done, whatcha seen?" Her voice was bright, cheerful, and lying.  
  
"Buffy..." He croaked, looking away when she cast a sad gaze at him for disrupting her facade, "in L.A. Fighting. Nothing exciting." Here he cleared his throat, "And you? what  
  
(who)  
  
have you done?"  
  
"Nothing much. College, slaying, got my soul partially sucked out by my demon roommate. Regular Buffy-type stuff."  
  
"Been...dating?" Angel forced it out.  
  
Buffy laughed at him, lightly, casually, -better to laugh than to cry- he saw written in her eyes, "Nicely done. Your casual voice is improving. But, no. Not really. You're kind of a hard man to get over, I guess."  
  
"But you slept with someone."  
  
(someone not me)  
  
It was out quickly, over fast, but he could see the reaction in her face and he cringed, "Is that why you came back? Parker? You break my heart, leave me worrying about you for months, and then when you hear about my pathetic attempt to move on, you come running back with a severe case of jealous-man syndrome? Angel, what do you want from me?"  
  
"I..." Angel didn't know how to respond, mostly because it was true, "I have something... I need to tell you."  
  
His face must have betrayed his anxiety, because she quickly replied, "Angel? What's wrong? Is...is it...are you okay?" At his lowered eyes, she walked over to where he was sitting, head tilted down, running his hand over the soft red and orange quilt on what he assumed was Willow's bed. Willow. Angel wondered if she and Oz were talking about them right now. Is Willow angry at him? For breaking Buffy's heart and leaving her for Willow to comfort. And Xander too. Xander. He growled, deep in his throat, at his mental image of the boy comforting Buffy. His Buffy in that boy's arms- oh, god. The summer after she died, when she returned- that dance in the Bronze, that boy's body pressed up against his silky blonde...  
  
"Angel, please. You're scaring me."  
  
His head jerked up, "I have my soul." 


	6. chapter VI

Buffy looked at him oddly, "Of course. That wasn't even in question. Why are you acting like this? Is it the First again?" She turned to walk away and pace, but suddenly Angel needed to be near him and he shot out his arm to grab her wrist, firm, but always gentle.  
  
(gentle with my Buffy, oh please don't let her hate me)  
  
He held her wrist, his five fingers wrapped around her thin arm. Suddenly it was very upsetting that her arm was so thin. It needed to be addressed, it had to be, it was very, very important, so much more important than a stupid permanent soul, "Buffy, you're so thin. Why are you so thin? Haven't you been eating? You look so tired. You need to..."  
  
He couldn't seem to let go of her wrist as he babbled. It was fascinating him. Angel caressed it as he spoke.  
  
(so thin, but he loved her, and she was always so beautiful)  
  
"I have my soul. Forever, Buffy."  
  
Angel didn't look up at her face. Instead, he turned her wrist over and examined the soft underside, the blue veins that ran with her blood, obsessed. The vampire stroked her palm, her fingers, her knuckle scars.  
  
"How long?"   
  
"Almost a month."   
  
'Why... why didn't you tell me sooner?"   
  
Angel examined a freckle, running his thumb over it, savoring her skin.   
  
Everything seemed so clear now.   
  
"I was scared... that you wouldn't want me. And that you wouldn't....wouldn't care. And what I said was true, you do deserve someone so much better. But I'm so weak. And I was trying so hard to stay away from you, and then I heard about Parker and he hurt you, Buffy, and I don't want you to hurt. Ever. And I made a vow, to protect your heart from bruises, and I failed... so badly. And I only ever wanted...for you to be happy."  
  
Angel clutched her wrist in his hands, then glanced up to find her gazing down at him, still looking kind of dazed at his revelation and then the amount of words that had flown from his mouth, "I'm going insane without you. Waking up each day, reaching for you..."  
  
(your vanilla, your gold, your silk and strawberries, your sunshine in my bed)  
  
"was hell, Buffy, it was so...so painful."  
  
"I know." His eyes, which had glazed over while he recalled those aching mornings when his broken heart was so heavy in his chest, looked up at her as she spoke, "I know. God, that is definitely a pain that is familiar with Buffy. But.... I'm angry. So angry. That you could just give up, that you... don't have this same need to do anything, anything, for us to be together. But I, I think I understand. And I think I can forgive you. For waiting to tell me, for... leaving me. And I want to be with you. So... so badly that I can forgive you anything."   
  
Buffy climbed onto Willow's bed and straddled his lap, facing him, "I love you. God, I love you so much. And if you ever try to leave me again, I'll break your kneecaps."   
  
Angel, still unwilling to let go of her arm, held it to him and said thickly, "I love you. I'll... I can't... ever leave you again. It hurts too much."   
  
"Good, " she smiled, "Cause I'm tired of fighting, and I don't feel like breaking any bones right now. Maybe later."   
  
Buoyed by her levity and suddenly taking note of her position, Angel grinned, "Anything I can do to help you postpone crippling me?"   
  
Buffy smiled again, "So, clause.... gone for good?"   
  
Angel leaned in until he was only a second away from her sweet lips, "Forever."   
  
And then her lips were on his, and all thoughts had left him, beyond the urge to throw her down on her best friend's red quilt and make love to her until their bones ached, because it had been months, no years, possibly centuries since he had felt her soft, passionate lips on his cold ones. 


	7. chapter VII

Angel lay back on her bed, pulling the slight woman up to him. Buffy smiled up at her love, then rested her head on his still chest. He reached down and pulled her pale green duvet over them, then wrapped his arms around her. Angel dropped a kiss on her silky hair, paused, and then tilted her head up for a tender kiss.  
  
"I love you." He whispered.  
  
Buffy kissed him again and replied, "I love you so much. God, when you left, I thought I was going to... I missed you so much. Willow, Xander, they must be so sick of me right now. Buffy, the mope-a-holic, that was me."  
  
Angel pulled her closer, let her settle into him, wishing he could just take her inside him and never let her out, out in the real world where people can hurt her and yell at her and make her cry. Instead, he purred, letting his chest vibrate against her cheek like she loved, and murmured, "I'll never, ever leave you alone again. I'll be with you, always. You'll probably get very sick of me."  
  
Craning her neck to look at him, she said firmly, "No! I could never..." At his smirk, she stopped, "Hey! You made a funny!" Buffy beamed. Angel chuckled. How could he have ever managed to stay even a day away from this perfection, this joy, this tiny blonde heaven?  
  
They lay in sated silence, quiet, sleepy. Angel listened as her breathing changed, became deeper, with longer pauses, as her heartbeat slowed. Once he was sure she was safely asleep, he closed his own eyes and drifted off to sleep, waiting for morning.  
  
Or someone entering the room.   
  
Angel jerked awake next to his still sleeping beloved, and held her protectively as the dorm door opened. He checked the clock quickly; it was still hours to dawn. Who would be slipping quietly into the Slayer's home at this time?  
  
A shock of red hair slipped through, and he relaxed. Still in darkness, Angel silently slipped from Buffy's arms and pulled on his black pants. He crept over to Willow and tapped her shoulder. She let out a small yelp and jumped, swiveled in midair, and dropped her book bag.  
  
"Angel!" The redhead cried out in relief.  
  
"Shhhh..." He whispered, "Buffy's still asleep."  
  
Willow nodded, then blushed. He looked at her quizzically and she waved a hand towards his bare chest. Angel smiled, a small smile, and murmured, "Can I talk to you?"  
  
She nodded again, and mumbled, "Outside." 


	8. chapter VIII

Author's Notes: This is the last chappy, as saved on my computer. However, I love to cater to the wishes of my readers, and thus, a new chapter will be out soon with the much-prolonged Parker-Angel confrontation. And please, send feedback with love.   
  
He picked up his shirt from where it had been thrown and rested on the floor next to Willow's bed and followed her out the door. Slipping his arms through the sleeves, he closed the door to the dorm room and looked back at the girl, who stood nervously before a bench in the hallway.   
  
"Err... Bench," She said quickly, "Where we can sit."  
  
Angel smiled and then, still buttoning his shirt, walked to the bench and sat down, leaning his head back against the wall. Willow hastily followed his lead took a seat next to him,  
  
"So, you wanted to talk?"  
  
He picked his head up and frowned, "Yeah. I was wondering... Is everything okay? With Buffy, I mean?" Seeing the look on her face, he rushed to explain, "She's just so thin, and she looks so tired. Exhausted, even."  
  
Willow interrupted, "Yeah. Believe me, I know."  
  
"So what's going on?"  
  
The redhead's eyes widened, "What do you think is going on?"  
  
He cocked his head, puzzled.  
  
She sighed and exclaimed, "She's been missing you so badly!"  
  
Angel's eyes narrowed, "But why is she not eating?"  
  
Willow gaped at him, irritated. The vampire quickly ran over the conversation in his mind and came to a startling conclusion, "She wasn't eating because she missed me?"  
  
Her anger growing, Willow said loudly, "Yes, and boy do I have a bone to pick with you about that!"  
  
"Why would she... I didn't think it would affect her like that."  
  
Suddenly loquacious, Willow yelled, "You don't get it! I mean, you always sort of thought that her love for you wasn't... What? Wasn't as strong as yours? Just because she's so young? Angel, after you left- you didn't see her. You didn't see how...broken... she was. I mean, she acted fine, but I was the one who heard her sobbing at night, comforted her when she called out your name in her sleep. And Giles and I were so scared, scared that one night she'd just go out there and not care! We had to follow her around, Angel, when she patrolled. Just in case."  
  
"Willow, I didn't... didn't know."  
  
Willow jumped off the bench and stood over her, yelling, eyes full and wet, "No, you didn't! And you'll never know what it's like! To convince your best friend that there's something worth living for- that's the most... You'll never understand. But Giles and I did, and every once in a while you can just see..it.. in her eyes. That she's missing you, badly, so deeply nothing that we do can fix. And we had to beg her to eat. And to sleep- Angel, she couldn't sleep because every time she did, she'd have these dreams where you were hurt or dying and calling out for her..."  
  
Willow trailed off as they both saw Buffy standing in the doorway. Angel thought perhaps she had never looked so young, so vulnerable- sleep in her eyelids and lingering behind her eyes, newly-found black and white cow pajamas hanging off her too-thin frame. She shuffled towards him silently.  
  
Once she reached him, though, she ran one hand down his face and broke into loud, raucous sobs. He quickly rose and pulled her into his arms, murmuring generic words of comfort. Willow and Angel exchanged confused glances while he stroked her back.  
  
She pulled back to look at him, tear streaks clearly visible. After a moment, she whispered brokenly, "I woke up and you weren't there."  
  
(idiot. idiot. Idiot. must not hurt my Buffy, must not leave my Buffy)  
  
He caressed her cheek, kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry. But I'm still here, see? I won't leave you, ever again."  
  
The blonde clutched him tighter, "Promise?"  
  
Angel smiled down at her, "I promise."  
  
Buffy stretched up on her tiptoes, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. He grinned widely and swept her up off her feet inside of giving her the kiss she expected, striding into the dorm room and closing the door.  
  
A minute later he poked his head out and started to speak, but Willow laughed and interrupted, "I'll be gone for a while, I promise."  
  
He smiled, a big-teeth, full mouth grin and shut the door. 


End file.
